


Dreams

by FairyQueen (etoilecourageuse)



Category: Memoirs of a Geisha - Arthur Golden
Genre: Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:04:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilecourageuse/pseuds/FairyQueen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mameha had never been a woman who dreamed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dreams

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliebells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliebells/gifts).



> Happy Yuletide! I really hope that you like this - I haven't written anything MoaG in centuries, but I've always loved exploring Mameha in particular.

It was so easy to lose oneself in a world of dreams. It was so easy to lose oneself in a world of imagination, desires, pleasures. It was so easy to lose oneself in a world of beauty, and to forget to live. 

Mameha had never been a woman who dreamed. In her infant days, perhaps, the days she scarcely had memory of, that caused her sight to blur whenever she attempted to remember. In the days of her childhood, at home, when she had still been united with her parents, carrying the name she had refused to pronounce ever since they had taken it from her, the days that had ended so soon. Too soon. But she would not shed tears in reflection of her past; she would not look back, as it would only cause her further agony. 

Mameha had never been a woman who dreamed; she could not afford to dream, could not afford to distract herself with foolish desires, and to fade away, could not afford to live in any other world than reality. It would destroy her; dreaming would destroy them all. 

The girl, however, dreamed. She could see it in her eyes, so full of water, sensed it from the way she spoke and even moved, the way she looked at her at times, as though she had withdrawn into another world. She would not forbid little Chiyo to dream no matter how much she desired to –as who was she to take the only thing from her that she clung to so despairingly? – but she warned her, warned her sternly about the dangers of dreaming, imploring her to be careful, never to lose sight of what she wished to achieve. But perhaps it were her dreams that stirred her ambition to rise, her dreams and her desire that caused her to soar and then to fly, to fly way past the other geisha in Gion, despite her age, despite such trouble at first. 

Chiyo… She dreamed, dreamed too much perhaps. But how beautiful it must be, to dream, just once, perhaps twice, Mameha dared to think at times, but then quickly shook her head in disdain over her foolish thoughts, regaining her composure, not allowing her mind to drift once more. It would not do to drift, and to forget about reality, even for a brief moment. 

Mameha had never been a woman who dreamed. What others often mistook for languor was in truth focus, nothing but pure focus on her work, whether it meant to pour tea or to dance, to play music or merely to tell jokes in order to keep her guests entertained. She constantly worked, as to work meant to improve, to never lose the knowledge she had gained. She worked, never stalling, never resting, worked even when it meant only to cross a bridge, as it was important to focus on her posture, her steps, the expression within her eyes. She worked, worked until the point of exhaustion and beyond, until the Baron gave her the harsh order to stop, as the weariness had begun to show. Not out of concern, of course, she would be a fool to assume that he truly worried; he did not like his women to look weary. 

What other choice did she have, though, than to work? What other choice did she have if she desired to survive, to live in the way she had lived before? She had never been a woman who dreamed, as to dream would merely waste precious time and energy, as to dream would not feed her, would not pay her debt to the okiya or buy the supplies she required to prepare herself for her nights at the tea house. Dreams would not save her from facing harsh realities, from facing cruelty like she had so often before, so many times, would not soothe her agony, cleanse her wounds… Dreams would not give her comfort but merely taunt her, taunt her as she… Mameha had never been a woman who dreamed, and perhaps, she thought, perhaps it was for the best.

She had seen what had become of dreamers, had seen them without employment, homeless, begging for money and slowly starving, had seen them drink themselves to death as they were no longer capable of coping with reality, had seen them fill the pockets of their kimono with stones and throw themselves into the river as they had slowly begun to realise that dreams were nothing but dreams, made of dust and bursting apart in the moment they dared to reach for them. 

Hatsumomo, her rival, had been full of dreams too, at first, had always been insufferable, even as a little girl, but deep inside she had dreamed, had always dreamed, more than anything else… But she, too, had come to realise that it was foolish to dream, that they would do more damage than good, had been so deeply disappointed that inside she had broken apart, that her soul had appeared to escape from her body and left her behind bitter and cruel. She, too, had been full of dreams… And she, too, had perished. 

Even if she wanted… Mameha seemed incapable of dreaming, incapable of imagining a better world, a world without pain… She seemed incapable of twisting reality within her mind, incapable of forgetting about any harm that had been done to her, and of dreaming… What would it do, to close her eyes and to pretend that she was safe, to pretend that she was happy when men were touching her without her permission, when they were going even further? What would it do, when inside she was screaming with agony, physical, emotional, yet forced to smile, to always smile and to laugh? Wouldn’t she merely be disappointed? Wouldn’t she, too, break if she allowed herself to dream, wouldn’t it take away anything she had worked for so desperately, nearly tearing herself apart? 

She had never dreamed of becoming a geisha, it had never been her choice… She had been forced, forced in order to survive. And her only way of surviving was to focus, to work as hard as she was capable of working, and to focus. Her only way of surviving was to spare herself the disappointment of dreaming.


End file.
